


The Work's Never Done

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Prompt Fills 2018 [10]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, Not RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:10:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14000742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the song comment_fic prompt: "Hawaii Five-0, Danny Williams/Steve McGarrett, Man of Devotion (Fool's Garden)."Steve doesn't really like Bon Jovi, but he's willing to learn a Bon Jovi song for Danny. With a little help from a kind stranger.





	The Work's Never Done

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



> The song in question is Labor of Love from the Bon Jovi album This House Is Not For Sale.

Steve had never been much of a good singer, but ever since Danny had bought him that guitar, he’d wanted to do something with it, something nice for Danny.

So he was sitting on a towel up the sand from the water, his board planted in the sand beside him, strumming his way through the same chords for the thousandth time.

He murmured the lyrics tentatively under his breath.

 _Smoke stack blowing, there’s a fire in the sky_   
_Fahrenheit rising, oh, higher than high_  
 _Pressure’s building up, sparks are gonna fly_  
_I know where this is going when I look into your eyes  
_ _I know where this is going when I look into your eyes_

“That sounds pretty good,” a man said.

Steve was on his feet in an instant, heart racing. Dammit. He’d been so distracted by how damn hard singing was that he’d totally abandoned his awareness of his surroundings.

“Whoa, easy, didn’t mean to startle you.” The man standing behind Steve stood with his hands raised in surrender.

Steve forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths. “I don’t startle easily. I was really distracted is all.” He offered the man a brief smile, and the man took the cue, let his hands fall to his sides.

He looked vaguely familiar, in his mid-fifties, with graying hair and blue eyes. He looked like a man who smiled a lot.

“Like I said, that sounds pretty good.” The man nodded at Steve’s guitar, which had tumbled to the towel.

Steve scooped it up, dusted the sand off of it gently. “Thanks. I didn’t expect to see anyone out here this early.”

“Me neither,” the man said. He eyed Steve’s towel and surfboard, Steve’s blue board shorts. “Are you hiding out here?”

“I’m learning this song, for my partner,” Steve said. “He’s from Jersey, and he loves Bon Jovi, so. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

The man nodded, understanding. “You’re not much of a Bon Jovi fan?”

“Not really.”

“But you’re learning one of the man’s songs for him.”

“Yeah.”

The man whistled. “That’s devotion.”

Steve shrugged. “My teammates have informed me on more than one occasion that I fail at being appropriately affectionate in my relationships, so - I’m making the extra effort.”

“Your partner must be a hell of a guy.”

“One time he illegally crossed a border into a hostile foreign nation to save me, and also he gave me part of his liver, so.”

The man stared at him for a moment. Finally he said, “What is it you do?”

“I’m a cop. So’s he. He was a detective, back in Jersey.”

“Wow. Well, thanks for all you do.” The man eyed Steve some more. “You have the riff down really well, and it’s a catchy riff, but it’d sound better if you sing.”

“I’m not much of a singer. Been working on that. Hence - alone. Danny always says I’m crazy for getting up so early to swim and surf like this. Figure he won’t stumble on me here.”

The man chuckled. “Like I did.”

“And, well, Danny’s taking his little girl to the Bon Jovi concert tonight. Can’t really compete with that.” Steve shrugged, still unnerved by how the man had managed to sneak up on him.

“You going with them?”

“No. I’m not super into the band, and Danny just adores them, and he’s taught Grace to, and - me standing around being all _surly_ won’t help. I don’t think I’m surly, but Danny’s - wordy.”

“How’d you learn the guitar part?” the man asked.

“Listened to the song a thousand times. Found the chords online. Played along a thousand times more. And now here, in the mornings.”

“I know the song,” the man said. “How about I help you?”

Steve eyed him. The man was in decent shape for his age, but Steve was pretty sure he could take the man in the event that he was some kind of enemy agent. He really didn’t look like one, though. But he _had_ managed to sneak up on Steve.

“You don’t mind?” Steve said, finally, because Danny was always getting after him to be polite, to be more _human._ “You were obviously out and about -”

“Just walking and enjoying the morning and the beach,” the man said. “I don’t have anywhere to be for a while. I wouldn’t have offered if I minded.”

“You a singer?” Steve asked.

“I’ve been told I sing all right,” the man said.

“You a Bon Jovi fan?”

That made the man laugh. “You could say that. So, show me what you’ve got.”

Steve straightened out his towel with one hand, and he and the man sat down on it, Steve with the guitar across his knees.

He offered a hand. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

The man shook his head. “John.”

“My dad’s name was John.”

“Was?”

“He was also a cop. Killed in the line of duty.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a while ago.” Steve tested the strings, a couple of chords. “Okay. Let’s do this?”

“Hey,” John said, “do you have your phone with you? You should record this. So you can listen to it later. Hearing yourself recorded helps you know where to improve your performance.”

“Really?”

John nodded. “Yeah.”

“All right.” That sounded reasonable, and Steve wanted to get this right for Danny. Steve fished his phone out of the little bag he kept his wallet and keys in, fired it up, and set it to record.

John counted them in, and Steve picked up with the opening riff.

John did know the song off by heart, hit every note, managed to capture the gentleness in the first two verses, the swell of passion in the chorus. He smiled at Steve, lifted his chin, nodded encouragingly, so Steve joined him on the third verse.

 _Only fools count treasure in silver and gold_  
 _I don't want for nothing that these hands can hold_  
 _If you need something done, put it on the list_  
 _And if I need some sugar, I’ll get it from your lips_  
_If I need some sugar, I’ll get it from your lips  
_ _It’s good, it’s good, it’s good to be alive_

They eased into the chorus together. Steve was hesitant to crescendo his voice the way John did, but John nudged him, raised his eyebrows, so Steve sang the bridge with him.

 _One taste of your lips, every night, every day_  
 _I know every curve, but it’s never the same_  
 _If love is a fire, I’ll go down in flames_  
 _I wanna die in your arms, hearing you say my name_  
_I wanna die in your arms, hearing you say my name  
_ _I wanna die in your arms, hearing you say my name_

Steve drummed on the body of the guitar, mimicking the heartbeats in the recording, because it was the kind of thing Danny would find romantic, and also it gave him a moment to get up his nerve to really let it loose for the chorus.

 _It’s a full time job, the work’s never done_  
 _Twenty-four seven, it’s a labor of love_  
_Yeah, everything I got, it’s all about us  
_ _Baby this ain’t working, it’s a labor of love_

John nudged him again, so on the second iteration of the chorus Steve threw his heart into it, the way he threw himself into a firefight for Danny, and John stopped singing, let Steve go on his own.

 _It’s a full time job, the work’s never done_  
 _Twenty-four seven, it’s a labor of love_  
 _Give everything I’ve got, I can’t get enough_  
_Baby this ain’t working, it’s a labor of love  
_ _Baby this ain’t working, it’s a labor of love_

When it was done, John cheered.

“See, you’ve got this. You know the song really well. Danny will be impressed at how hard you’ve worked.”

“Thanks for helping me out,” Steve said. “I guess I just needed that final push to - get it all out there. You have a great voice, by the way.”

John looked amused again. “Thanks.” But he sounded sincere.

Steve stopped the recording on his phone, stood up, offered John a hand.

John let Steve help him to his feet, and then he dusted himself off. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Steve. Good luck out there on the wild streets of Hawaii. Stay safe.”

“It was nice meeting you too, John. Enjoy Hawaii. It’s beautiful.”

John smiled. “I will. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too.” Steve lifted a hand in farewell.

John waved, and then he continued on his way along the beach.

Steve watched him go, then sat back down. He fired up the recording, and he set his guitar aside. He could learn to sing this. He’d just have to listen to it a thousand times.

*

Grace was still gushing about the concert a week later, telling everyone who’d listen about how she’d heard all her favorite songs, and how the lead singer had danced with a lady from the audience during the guitar solo on one of the slow, romantic songs, and how she’d stood up and danced during all her favorite songs, and how everyone screamed _so loud_ for an encore, and the last song was her most favorite of all, Livin’ On A Prayer, and _everyone_ sang along, and it was _amazing._

“I’m glad you had fun,” Steve said. He was driving her to school because Kono had called about a crime scene and Danny’s expertise had been needed first.

“Next time the band comes you should come with us,” Grace said. “I think you’d like it.”

“Maybe.” Steve glanced at her. “What’s your dad’s favorite Bon Jovi song?”

“I dunno. I think he likes them all. Or maybe he just likes too many to have a favorite.”

Steve wanted to ask her what Danny thought of Labor of Love, but she was a little bit too young to be lingering on that kind of song. So he dropped her off at school, told her to be good for her mom and Step-Stan, and then it was off to the crime scene.

During lulls in the case, when they were reduced to watching Kono search for information on the internet or waiting for reports from Max and Charles, Steve wondered. What would be the best way to gauge Danny’s appreciation for the song Steve had chosen to learn? And what would be the best way to sneak in a performance for him?

Danny called when Steve was halfway home to say that he’d gotten a call from Rachel and she wanted to talk to him about something in person, so he was going to be late, and Steve could pick whatever he wanted for take-out.

And then Steve knew. No take-out, not tonight. He’d cook, and he’d cook something he knew Danny liked, and once they’d kicked back and had beers and were relaxed, he could break out his guitar, let Danny know just how much he appreciated the gift.

Steve headed to the grocery store to pick up supplies, and then he headed home. He set aside his gun and badge, kicked off his shoes, washed his hands, pulled on an apron, and set to work. While he worked, he fired up that recording, the one that generous stranger had helped him with, and he sang along.

It was just him, so he could open up and let loose as much as he wanted.

 _Sweet sweat’s rolling down the middle of your spine_  
 _Bodies move together, perfect rhythm and time_  
 _Baby say my name, I’ll write yours in the sky_  
 _Higher than a rocket on the fourth of July_  
_Higher than a rocket on the fourth of July  
_ _It’s good, it’s good, it’s good to be alive_

“Babe, you will not _believe_ what Rachel just -” Danny came up short in the kitchen doorway.

Steve scrambled for his phone, shut off the recording. “Hey. You’re home earlier than I thought you’d be.”

Danny stared at him. “Are you listening to Bon Jovi?”

“I was just - singing. Along. To a song. I heard,” Steve said, because he didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

Danny narrowed his eyes, suspicious, and then he was across the kitchen in a flash, unlocking Steve’s phone, because of course he knew the code, and then the recording was starting all over again.

Steve started toward him, reached for the phone. “Wait, don’t -”

Danny danced out of reach, cranked the volume all the way up. Then he paused, stared at the phone, puzzled. “Steve, what is this?”

Steve sighed, let his hand fall to his side. “It was gonna be a surprise. I’ve been learning a song for you, on the guitar you gave me. That’s a practice recording.”

Danny lifted his head. “A practice recording? Steve, that’s _Bon Jovi.”_

“I know. Your favorite band. I looked up their newest album and studied the lyrics and this seemed like a - a romantic song.”

Danny waggled the phone at him. “I don’t think you understand. That’s Jon Bon Jovi.”

Steve stared at Danny. “Yeah. You always talk about how he’s from Jersey, how he’s your favorite.”

Danny stared right back at him. “No, Steve. On the recording. That’s Jon Bon Jovi.”

Steve frowned. “What? No, it’s me. Playing the guitar.”

“And Jon Bon Jovi singing.” Danny was wearing that expression of his, that _I need you to get this_ look he got when Steve was missing something important.

Steve shook his head. “No, it’s me and this guy named John. He happened upon me while I was practicing and said he knew the song and offered to help me with my singing since I had the guitar part down.”

Danny flung his hands up. “Are you listening to yourself? This man singing on the recording with you _is Jon Bon Jovi.”_

“That’s impossible,” Steve said.

“I know!” Danny cried. “Except I know Jon Bon Jovi’s voice almost as well as I know yours, and that’s him. You said the guy’s name was John.”

“I thought he meant - John. Like my father.”

“Well, that is his real name, his legal name,” Danny said. “When did this happen?”

Steve sank against the counter. “About a week ago. The morning of your concert, actually.”

“You don’t know what Bon Jovi looks like?”

“Not really. I mean, all the pictures I’ve seen of him, he looks like he’s twenty.”

“Not anymore, doofus.” Danny sat down hard in one of the kitchen chairs, laughing. “I cannot believe you. You sang with Jon Bon Jovi and you didn’t even know it.”

“He didn’t say anything,” Steve protested. “He was - really nice, actually.”

Danny covered his face with one hand. “How are we friends if you don’t even know what Bon Jovi looks like?”

“I know now,” Steve muttered.

Then Danny peered between his fingers at Steve. “You’ve been learning Labor of Love on the guitar? For me?”

“Yeah.”

Danny rose to his feet, crossed the kitchen, planted himself right in front of Steve. “Show me.”

“But I’ve already started dinner.”

“Dinner can wait.”

Steve looked down at Danny, who gazed resolutely up at him, and he nodded. He stepped around Danny, turned off the stove, tugged off his apron, and went to fetch his guitar from his room.

Danny was sitting on the couch in the den, so Steve sat down beside him. He had to take a few deep breaths, because he’d never played in front of anyone before (except apparently a mega rockstar one time).

Then he hit that opening riff, and he sang. He threw himself into it. He could throw himself between Danny and a bullet. He could give this song his all.

After the final chord, he paused. Held his breath. Danny was gazing fixedly at him, had been since the first note. Then Danny reached out, plucked the guitar from Steve’s hands, set it aside, and tugged him in for a kiss.

Steve kissed him back, folding Danny in his arms and parting his lips so Danny could taste him.

Then Danny pulled back and whispered, _“I wanna die in your arms hearing you say my name.”_

Steve was on his feet and tugging Danny up the stairs to the bedroom. No more words were necessary.

*

“This is delicious,” Danny said, hours later. He and Steve were sitting at the kitchen table, finally having dinner.

“I aim to please,” Steve said, sinking down opposite him with a plate of his own.

Danny cast him a heated look. “And please you do.” He took another bite. He had that look on his face, like he was planning something Steve wouldn’t like. “You know, the next time Bon Jovi comes through here, you should come to the concert with me and Grace. I know she’d love to have you there. We can spill for front row tickets so you can be sure you know what the man looks like.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Never. You should get Kono to make a backup copy of that recording, though. For posterity. Grace will be incredibly impressed. When she’s older.”

Steve nodded his agreement.

Then Danny narrowed his eyes again. “You would’ve deleted the recording once you did the performance, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah, get Kono to make a backup. And be prepared for endless mockery.”

“Anything for you,” Steve said, and he leaned across the table for a kiss.

Danny kissed him back, and Steve resigned himself to going to a Bon Jovi concert sometime in the future.

 _It’s a full time job, the work’s never done  
_ _Twenty-four seven, it’s a labor of love_

 


End file.
